The Ridiculous, The Sublime
by book5worm3
Summary: "The moment he sees her he knows that he is done for. He knows now that she exists, that a person like her exists nothing in his life will ever be stable again until he knows her." An A/U Stefan and Elena fic - all reviews welcome!


The moment he sees her he knows that he is done for.

He knows now that she exists, that a person like _her_ exists nothing in his life will ever be stable again until he _knows_ her.

So with his heart in his throat and an absurdly vibrant red plastic cup in his hand he resolves himself to meeting her, to speaking to her, to getting to know her. Because if he doesn't he knows he'll spend the next tortured days of his life finding out how he will see her again. But he's awkward and he's serious and no amount of cheap beer in the world could give him the potvaliancy he so desperately wishes he could acquire right now. His palms are sweating and he knew that he should have foregone the shirt with the perfectly pressed collar for something less constrictive, but suddenly everything escapes him, because she's caught him staring at her and oh dear Lord she's got one eye on him while still talking to her friend. He realizes that now that she's caught him he should bashfully look away, but he doesn't. She is **so** beautiful. He's seen girls like her before; long , lean, dark. But when one of her huge doe-eyes rests on him he knows that she's special and a lump forms in his throat because she's exactly the girl he did _not _want in his life right now.

When she raises an eyebrow his way he knows that he has totally blown it because of course she'd find the guy who's been staring at her for the last 10 minutes strange BECAUSE HE'S BEEN STARING AT HER FOR THE LAST 10 MINUTES! And then she's turning her head towards him and she – OH GOD, why is he still looking? Could he even look like any more of a geek? What 22 year old male finds his pulse racing and his heart pounding just from looking at a girl? He's pathetic.

The lump in his throat suddenly swells to quadruple its size and he can't breathe and he's clamming up and Jesus, if he dies now in front of her (at a party) that would really be the absolute frigging cherry on top of an exponentially awkward life. Somewhere in the back of his mind he makes a list of what to do in this situation, because this has happened to him before. In fact these kinds of things happen him unfortunately regularly. Subconsciously he titles the list 'Avoiding death by Suffocation at a Party, while both recovering and retaining your Pride'. Or whatever's left of it, that is. He never really had that much to begin with. And then while he's contemplating the comedic tragedy that is his life, a stroke of genius hits him.

Take a drink.

In surprise, his eyes drop to the cup in his hand and did he call this beacon of light absurd before? While water would have been preferable, beggars most certainly can't be choosers and so with one last look at his brown-eyed beauty, he turns around and takes a humungous gulp of the piss water in the red cup. Mid swallow he's already feeling better and tremendously proud that he's survived what could have been a truly embarrassing situation when suddenly his lungs decide that that would simply be _too easy_ and a complete evacuation of the piss water in his lungs ensues. With one mighty cough, his throat explodes and the liquid in his mouth is violently projected out of the hollow of his throat and through his teeth, spraying in every direction. He crumples over and heaves for a humiliating 10 seconds. His eyes are closed and he's almost afraid to open them. Maybe he can just stay here, frozen with his eyes closed until everyone at the party leaves and he never has to see any of them again.

And just as he's convincing himself that he might just get away with what just happened, all blood instantly drains from his body as he feels a small, firm hand on his back.

"Are you okay?"

The voice is so low and throaty and mellow that his heart clenches for a minute before he dares to open his eyes. And there she is, his brown-eyed beauty right in front of him; her doe eyes so round and full of concern that his stomach sinks because he knows that no matter how well he tried to convince himself earlier, she is **way** out of his league. Better get this over with.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks." She looks at him a bit wearily and he shrinks under her hard gaze.

"Do you want me to get you a glass of water or something?" She asks, casting a quick glance behind her shoulder and he can tell she's aware of the people looking at them.

"No thanks. I-I think I'm just going to head home anyways.'

Her lovely symmetrical eyebrows furrow and she still looks at him wearily. "Okay," she says. They both stand there and he's waiting for her to leave but then he realizes that he was the one that said he was going to go, so he should be the one leaving first. She raises her eyebrow at him again and he has never felt any more stupid in his life than he does right in this very moment. So with a drop of his shoulders and questions of why he even bothers trying to be a normal human being in public, he gives his brown-eyed beauty a deflated grin and turns away.

/&/

He doesn't see her for a while after that, because despite his brothers best efforts he hasn't really felt like going out since that night. Unlike Damon, he's not a party animal. He never has been. So instead he works. He spends his day endlessly clacking away at a shabby desk in a cramped newspaper office, has lunch with Matt and Nik, clacks some more until his piece for tomorrow's edition is seamlessly tied up and then he takes the subway home to his tiny apartment. He reads and writes some more. He cooks and drinks too much coffee. On Wednesday's and Saturday's he goes to a gym a few blocks from his flat where a short, built, bald guy called Rod yells at him for an hour while he does sit ups and press ups and every other kind of ups you can think of until he feels like he could get sick. Damon told him it would help him get over his break-up with his long-term girlfriend Katherine. So he went along with it. That was almost a year ago. On Sunday's he goes to his parents and lets his Mom dote on him and interrogate him about his personal life while his Dad looks on amused but silent from his overstuffed armchair.

When Damon calls him at 6.30pm on this particular Friday night, he has full intentions of refusing to go out again.

"Come on, buddy. You know that girl I've been seeing? Well, she's really great, Stef and I really want you to meet her. Please?"

And just because he can hear in his brothers voice how much this means to him, and the fact that his brother actually used the 'P' word, Stefan sadly looks down at the boxset of Seinfield in his hand and shakes his head.

"Fine. Text me the address."

At 8pm on the dot, he arrives at the lavish bar and, per Damon's usual style, he's the first one there. The places oozes with style and modernity and he couldn't feel more out of place right now if he tried. Alcohol would help a lot right now.

Just as he's helplessly scouring the packed room for a seat, his phone buzzes in his pocket.

_Yo bro, gonna be late. Bonnie's friend already there waiting for us. Booth by the toilets. _

Typical Damon to withhold that fact, that Bonnie's bringing a friend and he's just going to look like some stupid tag along. And just as he's feeling the frustration build in his chest, he reads the next line of the text and snorts a half-laugh.

_Chill out._

While he was seriously contemplating sticking at the bar until Damon arrives the place is jam-packed and people are bumping into him left, right and centre and he's feeling himself get irritated with the lack of personal space so he finds himself looking for the table beside the bathroom. Slowly and carefully he navigates his way through the crowd and surprisingly successfully he hasn't even so much as spilled his drink among the sea of elbows and shoulders. At least not until he sees her.

He's never really been very religious, but in this moment he knows. He knows that there's either a God or a Devil who's making him see this girl again. _Brown-eyed beauty._ Because just as his heart leaps up into his throat, he feels it instantly plummet back down when he remembers how much of an idiot he made of himself the last time he saw her. But then she's looking up and he catches her eye and a wave of foggy recognition hits her. Shit, he can't go hide now. That would just make him seem like even more of a whimp than he already is. Oh well, he resolves, it's now or never.

As he approaches, she gives him that weary look that she gave him back at the party. Like she knows something.

"Umm, hi. I'm sorry to interrupt you, but are you waiting here to meet Damon Salvatore and Bonnie?"

She's not smiling and she's not frowning. She's just looking at him with her eyes squinted like she's trying to figure him out. And then suddenly her concentrated features soften, and her eyes widen.

"I know you."

It wasn't a question. It was a statement.

He smiles a little weakly. "Yeah you do. Well not really. I mean- I'm Stefan Salvatore. Damon's brother. I'm supposed to meeting him here tonight and apparently so are you."

She smiles softly then.

"So _you're _Damon's brother. You almost choked at Klaus's party. Caroline told me Damon had a brother, but I told her we hadn't met. I didn't realize."

His ears perk up and he stands taller.

"Wait, you know Caroline?"

And all those haunted days he spent trying to figure out how he could possibly get to know her again, he never even thought that she might know one his closest friends. Coincidence or fate, he wasn't sure and quite frankly, he didn't care. He was just relieved. And terrified.

She nodded quickly. "She's a friend of Bonnies, and Bonnie is a friend of mine… obviously," she adds, grinning at him shyly. "She's actually the one who set Bonnie and Damon up together." She smiles warmly at this, and he experiences brief heart palpitations.

"I'm Elena, by the way. Elena Gilbert."

_Elena._

"Well, it's nice to properly meet you Elena. I'm sorry if I freaked you out with my little spaz attack at the party, by the way. I'm not usually that much of loser." At least not openly, he adds in his head.

Elena smiles a wide smile that reaches all the way to her eyes and she laughs a short, throaty laugh. It's like a spurt of laughter. And it's ridiculously cute. He really wants to make her do that again. "Trust me, Stefan, I'm the last person you need to apologize to. I was like Bambi on Ice until I was about 17 years old. Not the best way to go through high school," Her voice drawls sarcastically and her eyes are twinkling and she's smiling and he's laughing breathlessly.

It's a god.

The night goes as smooth as he could have possibly hoped for. Damon showed up not long after he had settled in with Elena with Bonnie in tow. Bonnie was full of life, with big stories and a boisterous laugh and Damon looked at her with such fondness that it made Stefan happy. They recounted anecdote after anecdote, and after a few drinks, he even found himself throwing in a few about Damon in his youth which left both girls in stitches and Damon scowling. He felt light and light-hearted and a swooping sensation glided through his stomach every time Elena's bare elbow would brush against his arm or the skin of her finger would ever so gently sweep past his hand as she reached for her drink.

The bar began to turn into a club and gradually it began getting louder and louder. By this point he could hardly hear what Elena was saying let alone what Bonnie and Damon were saying across the table, but when they got up and gestured to the bar he figured they were going to get another round. Probably their last round for the night, he reminded himself disappointedly.

"Well, has she passed the 'little brother' test?" Elena leaned in briefly and the combination of the smell and feel of her minty breath made his head light.

Stefan laughed loudly, even though it wasn't all that funny. If he had been more sober he might have been more embarrassed at the fact that he was buzzed off just a few rums and cherry cokes.

"Absolutely. If Damon doesn't watch out, I might just snap her up for myself!"

Elena smiled and looked down a little.

"I hope you don't."

The next morning he wakes up and feels the throb of his head and mentally berates himself for having the alcoholic tolerance of a 16 year old girl.

He thinks about Elena.

He thinks about her sleek brown hair, her white lace skirt, her subtle perfume, her voice, her throaty giggles and big belly laughs. He thinks about it all and groans at the idea of having such a teenage crush on a girl he's barely even knows. There is no doubting her beauty. It's kind of insane how beautiful she is. But it's more than that. It's everything combined. It's the fact that she's from Atlanta and that her little brother is the apple of her eye even though he's not so little anymore and that she wanted to be a vampire when she was a little girl and the idea of a little toddler Elena with olive skin and chubby cheeks and huge chocolate eyes makes him scrub at his face tightly. He's in waaaay over his head.

"You and Elena seemed to hit it off pretty well," Damon says casually, taking another unrealistically large bite of his burger.

Stefan had spent the week divulged in work once again and to tell the truth of it he was exhausted. But that didn't mean he hadn't thought about her every day. He knew that the chances of them seeing one and other again soon were fairly high, given the fact that his brother was dating her best friend, but the lack of organization in this meet up made his palms clammy. He also knew how stupid it was to obsess over something as trivial as it either. He'd only spoken to the girl on two separate occasions in his life. One of which he had narrowly avoided spitting all over her.

But it didn't feel like something trivial.

It felt like the biggest part of his life.

He lifted his eyes nervously to his brother, who had far more interest in his quarter-pounder than his panicky sibling.

"Yeah, she's… she's pretty amazing." He said and his eyes nervously flickered between his own meal and his brother's expression. As soon as he looked up, Damon's dark eyes flipped and widened.

"Damon…"

"Oh no… no, no, no, no. Hell to the no. I am not setting you up with her, no way in hell."

"C'mon Damon, just invite her out again next weekend with Bonnie, that's all I'm asking."

Damon groaned and flinched. "Ugh dude, you have that scorned puppy-dog look in your eyes already, man. What am I supposed to do with that? Don't get me wrong, you know I love you and I want you to be happy but you've been fucked over big time in the past and Elena isn't looking for anything serious right now."

"Neither am I, Damon. I swear! I just want to get to know her, it doesn't mean we have to hook up or anything." … At least not until I convince her that I'm worth a shot.

Damon laughed and shook his head.

"Who do you think you're talking to, dude? Remember that time that that neighbourhood stray was lingering around and Mom nearly cussed it out because she caught it eating the ham off the counter in the kitchen? You spent 4 months feeding that disgusting, disease riddled cat in secret, Stefan. And then cried for a week straight when it went away."

"Fluffy was a perfectly nice cat, Damon."

"You'd get attached to that lamppost out there on the side walk if you spent more than 10 minutes with it. But Elena isn't like that, man. She's not looking for a boyfriend right now. To tell you the truth, she's just gotten out of a pretty messy relationship and according to Bonnie she's sworn off all men for a long time."

He drops his head. "Yeah okay, I suppose your right." He pushes food around his plate, and sighs.

He hears Damon groan loudly.

_Victory._

"Ugh, you are literally the worst. FINE, fine I've caved. But if you fuck up and something happens to my relationship with Bonnie as a result of it, you're dead. Capiche?"

Maybe it's because it's been over two weeks since he's seen her or maybe it's the fact that she's just that goddamn beautiful but when her eyes drop on him from the other side of the room, his heart literally fucking swells. He waves and gestures her over and stands up when she approaches. She's a whirlwind of rush and excitement.

"Hey!" He greets her a little breathlessly, even though she's the one who's clearly been running. She smiles warmly at him but her face is cold as she plants a chaste kiss on his cheek. When she steps back his skin burns and he's wearing the goofiest smile she's ever seen so she laughs out loud. While she gets herself settled in, he goes to the bar and orders her a gin and tonic, with extra lime because he remembers that's what she got the last time they were out together.

She smiles again once he hands it to her.

"G&T. I'm impressed."

They're both here under the pretence of meeting up with Bonnie and Damon and a few mutual friends but what she didn't know was that he had bribed Damon into being late so they could spend some quality time together. So he takes a deep breath and sits back and tries to enjoy the short time he has alone with her.

And he does.

He's amazed at how easily the conversation flows. She's clearly intelligent and animated in her story-telling, she's funny and involved but then she's a careful and attentive listener. She hangs onto his every word. She doesn't question the appearance, or rather lack of, of Bonnie and Damon, so neither does he.

"Bonnie tells me you're a writer." That's how she starts off a lot of their topics, with statements.

He nods and while he explains how his writing is more of a sell-out career than anything else she listens and like a sponge, takes everything in. She's interested in writing too; always has been. She almost considered doing journalism too, she tells him. Her mother got her into it. She's an avid reader and she's well informed and quick and right at the climax of a debate they've got going on about a recent article in the New York Times his phone buzzes on the table in between them and the screen flashes. It's Damon. They both look down and see it, so when he looks back up at her he explains, "He's probably just wondering where he should meet us." He doesn't want this to end.

"Another round?"

And apparently neither does she.

After that, they see each other pretty regularly and without the façade of 'Bonnie and Damon'. They see each other because they're… friends.

And right now, he'll take friends.

Days spread into weeks which spread into months and even in that short period of time he learns so much about her. Like how she has different favourite colours depending on what mood she's in or her taste in music (which is a major flaw in her character but one day when finds himself singing along to the ridiculously peppy pop song on the radio in his car and knows that it's her favourite he kind of starts to love pop music too). He learns about the books she likes to read, and the way she likes her coffee, and what her favourite bakery is, and how she writes incessantly in a lime green leather bound journal that has her initial's engraved into it and soon he starts to think that she's the coolest person he's ever met. He even sees her in her Power Rangers pyjamas with a sloppy bun on top of her head and no make-up on when he makes a surprise visit to her apartment one morning. She blushes and bashfully drops her eyelids and it makes him want to kiss her so much. But that's not new. He always wants to kiss her.

One night they go out on the piss, and while they didn't actually plan it, they both fall into his shitty little apartment absolutely legless. Her nose is red from the cold outside and he's breathless and they laugh and laugh and laugh. She's open and free and a breath of fresh air, but whenever he sees her even slightly vulnerable her guard of steel goes right back up again. And when he finds out why he wants to rip the head off the jackass who made her like this. So he wills himself to break down the wall and as the days and weeks bleed into one and other, he tears the bricks down one by one.

She kisses him on the cheek when she sees him and he wraps his arms around her because she's so little in his broad frame. Sometimes she lets him hold her hands, but sometimes when her guard is itching to rear its ugly head she thinks the better of it. And every time she gives his hand a final squeeze and lets it fall back to rest at her side, it hurts him a little bit. Because he figures at this point she knows that he likes her… a lot. So with every day that goes by that she doesn't reciprocate these feelings; he becomes more and more hopeless.

They hang out at his place and at hers and they go for coffee and lunch and walks. They hang out at Bonnie's and at Damon's and at Caroline's. She even comes to his parents with him one day. It's a Sunday and they make plans to go to this American Writers exhibition in the centre of the city. It's packed and hectic and quite truthfully they're not enjoying it quite as much as they thought they would. So he tells her that he has to stop by his parents' house on the way home and asks her if she wants to join him. She doesn't look up from the journal she's examining through the glass case when she says, "Yes."

His parents' house is big and old with huge tilted trees and a beautiful thick oak door and there's ivy over the whole front of it. Inside is full of old antiques and old family portraits and it becomes clear to her very quickly that this boy was never short of a few dollars growing up. He brings her into the enormous kitchen, which is surprisingly brighter than the main entrance and he introduces her to his parents' and he swears his Mom is going to cry. She gushes over Elena and how beautiful she is ("Isn't she beautiful, Giuseppe?") and forces food on her until her stomach feels like it's about to pop.

He shows her around the gardens and through the un-used parts of the house and she's fascinated by all the trinkets and family heirlooms lying around. This family has a history. He laughs at how innocent she looks, carefully picking up and examining everything she can get her hands on but all the while with such hesitancy and caution as if she's afraid of breaking something. When he comes back from the bathroom and finds her in his childhood room, he literally just **can't. **This is like some teenage fantasy come to life seeing her sitting on his bed with her hair swooped gracefully to rest on one shoulder leaving her long, elegant neck totally exposed and it all just gets too much. Before he can compose himself, he's over by her side, snatching the old journal out from her delicate hold and dropping it with a definitive 'thump' to the floor. Her eyes widen and there's a question on her lips, her _perfect _lips. He knows because he's watching them so intensely and time slows down so much that seconds feel like minutes and he looks up to her eyes but she's closed them and her head is tilted back into his hands and oh Jesus, he just can't deny himself this one tiny pleasure. With a stroke of his thumb on her cheek and a further tangling of his hand in her hair, he leans down and takes her pink lower lip between his. He can't help the groan in the back of his throat because this is it; this is what he's been fantasizing about for months, hell for _years_. This feeling. He pulls away and looks up at her eyes. They're semi-open now but foggy and then time speeds back up again, faster, faster, faster than time has ever gone before and his lips are everywhere. On her lips, on the corner of her mouth, on her jaw and her chin, along her neck and her ears and she's making these tiny little breathy whimpers that are going straight to sizeable bulge in his jeans. Hands are flaring everywhere and her touch is electric and _God_ how has he lasted this long without this? Just as she's raised herself on her knees and has wrapped a long leg around his waist and he groans at the feeling of her weight on top of him their fantasy is cut short by the call of his mother's voice.

"Stefan, I've found that photo album Elena was looking for!"

And if there's anything in a moment like that that feels like a bucket of ice water has been poured over you, it's the voice of your mother. As soon as he felt her on top of him, she's off him and on the other side of the room. Frantically she runs her fingers through her hair and wipes the back on her hand against her lips and takes her scarf from the chair beside her and wraps it around her flushed neck. She does everything but look at him. And if there's anything _else _that could feel like a bucket of ice water being thrown over you in that moment, it's that.

The car ride home is awkward and silent. When he tries to spark a conversation she merely hums and she spends the whole time looking out the window. Usually they bicker like an old married couple about who gets to control the radio but this time neither of them even think of it. The bright, preppy songs he's sure he'd always indulge her with would seem too out of place in this tension. When they get to her apartment, he expects her to tell him that she'll talk to him tomorrow or that they'll see each other soon. So when she turns to him expectantly and says, "What, aren't you coming up?" yeah, it surprises him a little. But who is he to question it.

They walk in silence and ride in the elevator in silence and even when she fumbles for her keys in her handbag it's silent. He doesn't really know what she's thinking or why she isn't talking because usually he can't get her to stop talking.

"Elena-"

She turns and puts her finger on his lips and tingles ensue.

"Shh, Stefan. Later, okay? Later."

And then she raises herself up onto her tippy-toes and plants one straight on him. She moves her mouth against his rhythmically, sensually and when he feels her tongue on his again he can hear the trumpet song in his head. When she pulls away, his eyelids are lazy and heavy and he just can't stop so he follows her head and keeps kissing her and kissing her and kissing her until they both feel drunk. Her tiny hands caress his face, his neck, his broad shoulder and all the way down to his back until they come forward to tug at his shirt. He breathlessly pulls away and holds her hands in his as she tries to take his top off him. His eyes question her but she just moves to kiss him again and he feels her fingers trace his abdomen and he automatically tenses.

"You're cold," He mumbles against her mouth, his mind in a daze of pleasure. He feels her laugh more than he hears it and she kisses her way up to his ear before whispering, "Then warm me up." The combination of her sultry voice and the allure of her words makes him reel and _Jesus _he just has to have her now. She lets out a surprised scream as he hoists her up in his arms and instinctively she wraps her legs around his waist. She laughs into shoulder as he practically runs with her into the bedroom. But that's when the laughter stops.

He makes quick work of both of their clothes, because he has literally dreamed of this moment far too many times to not make the absolute best of it. But just as she has her head leaned back, allowing the every ounce of emotion between them wash over her, he does something unbelievably and totally characteristically sweet that makes her heart flutter, like telling her how beautiful she is or kissing the little scar she has just over her ribs where a thistle branch had caught her when she was little. He kisses her slowly and sweetly, but deeply and she can feel that feeling build in the pit of her stomach. He struggles with her bra and he huffs, and she smiles fondly because only her Stefan would get so frustrated with a simple mechanism like a hook. She lifts her hand to his cheek before she helps him unhook it. But just as she revels in his innocence, he takes her nipple in his mouth and she gasps, loudly. Not so naïve, Stefan.

His hands are everywhere and he's so constricted in his boxers right now that he that feels one brush the wrong way and he could literally explode but her skin is just so soft that he just can't help but touch every part of it. She gets impatient soon though as she kicks her panties down her smooth legs and "Just, **God** Stefan, _do_ it already." But her complaint gets stuck in her throat as she feels those torturous fingers right where she needs him most. It's beautiful and painful and she's gripping sheets because he's found that spot and she grits her teeth and breathes out through them. When he looks down at her like this though, back arched and apple scented hair sprawled out all over the sheets he just can't hold off anymore. With a groan of disapproval from her, she leans up on her elbows and he can see she's going to give out to him but when he painfully pulls his boxers down her complaints are silenced.

Time speeds up and slows down and universes may have changed, neither of them are quite sure.

Moans and groans, and grunts and whimpers and a litany of names take over this room, their lives, the world and it is perfect, perfect, so goddamn perfect that he can't believe it's real but then he can because he feels her below him, her lips on his, her shallow breath against his cheek. It's dark but there are colours, colours everywhere and he's not sure if he's always lived in a work of art or if this is a recent thing, but he just doesn't care because nothing matters except her.

She's floating softly back down from the high he brought her too, her throaty voice lower than ever and scratchy too but _Jesus _- so worth it. He gets up to sort himself out but when he comes back his eyes are already half closed and he doesn't bother putting on his underwear, he just climbs into her bed and wraps their naked bodies up so tightly that she's not sure which limb is hers and which is his. She's never been all that great of a sleeper but she knows that after _that_ experience, she could sleep for years. She almost thinks she doesn't hear it; it could have just been her mind playing tricks on her. But she did hear it. And it changes everything

_"I love you, Elena."_

The next morning when he wakes up, he notices she's not by his side but he still smiles and languidly stretches. The sheets are cold but they still smell like her and nothing could wipe that shit-eating grin off his face today.

He gets out of bed and calls out her name but she's not there and he figures she's gone to buy them coffee or something. Because they'll need their strength. Because they just had _sex. _Hot, amazing, passionate, meaningful sex. The best sex he's ever had. He laughs out loud and returns to the bedroom. It takes him 20 minutes to realize that she would have been back by now and his chest tightens a bit so when he finds a note in the kitchen to say that she had to get to work early he's a little relieved. After a quick shower in hers, he wears the same clothes he wore the day before into work that day because he knew he'd have no time to grab his own but he still smiles the whole day because every time he looks down at his clothes he reminds himself of what amazing incident just occurred last night.

When he hasn't got a text from her that evening he thinks it's a little weird, so he rings her. Her phone just rings out so he leaves a message. But she never gets back to him. It's unlike her and due to the huge step their friendship just took the previous night he's worried. He's always worried but by 8 o'clock he feels like he has a legitimate reason to be worried. He feels like he should go over to her apartment and check it out, and literally just as he's putting his shoes on by the door he sees his phone flashing and it's from her.

**_Hey, sorry I missed your call. Work was pretty crazy today, just in the door. In need of an early night. TTYL? Ex_**

Something was definitely up.

**_Is everything OK?_**

He waits with baited breath for a reply and so hoped it would be the one he wanted.

**_Of course. Just have a lot going on right now._**

Cue soul-crushing disappointment. And automatically he can feel his jaw tighten because what was he really expecting? That last night meant that suddenly she liked him back just as much as he liked her? No, of course she didn't. Not once, through the entire course of their friendship had she so much as alluded to the fact that she felt the same. Sure, he thought maybe the possibility of her returning the feelings _someday_ was a maybe and yeah, she never stopped his advances but there were never any specifics. Had he read too much into everything? _Stefan, you had sex with the woman. That __**means **__something._ Well, sure, tohim it meant something, but that didn't necessarily mean that the same was true for Elena. Later, she'd told him. And now was later. She wanted sex. She got sex. And so had he, he had wanted those things too and he had given into the pleasure of it all. But he wanted more. He wants more.

Kicking off his shoes once more, he walks to the fridge and pulls out a beer. And even though he's hurt and kinda pissed and a beer would really help right now, he can hear somewhere in his subconscious reminding him it's a workday tomorrow and he growls angrily. Fuck that.

**_I just need some things to process things, Stefan. I'm sorry. _**

He falls onto the couch and closes his eyes and rubs his temples roughly.

**_Fine, Elena. Let me know when you're done 'processing'._**

"Come on dude, come out this weekend. Bonnie and I haven't seen you in ages. She misses you, bro. You're her little bitch."

"Not this weekend, Damon. Okay? I just don't feel like it."

"That's what you've said for the past month now, kid. Look I know shit went down between you and Elena and I know you won't tell me what happened but you can't just hole up in your apartment by yourself and act like a socially-challenged hermit."

"You always know just what to say, Damon."

"Well what do you want me to say, Stefan? I **told **you not to go after Elena, I **told **you she wasn't looking for anything serious. But you didn't listen to me."

"Nice talking to you brother, have fun with Bonnie."

"Stefa-"

The days are getting shorter but there are leaves everywhere and when he's out with his scarf wrapped around his neck and his chin and the cold on his ears he feels less like a 'hermit' and more like a regular guy. He's taken to walking through the park just past the subway on his way to work every morning because it's beautiful and there's always people and in the midst of everything else going on in the world, his tiny insignificant existence is completely and utterly trivial. And while it's a weird thought to have, it comforts him.

_A solitary enzyme_

He works. He spends his day endlessly clacking away at a shabby desk in a cramped newspaper office, has lunch with Matt and Nik, clacks some more until his piece for tomorrow's edition is seamlessly tied up and then he takes the subway home to his tiny apartment. He reads and writes and he doesn't know why but he's started to take pictures again. He hasn't done that since he was a teenager, but he likes it so he starts up again. On Wednesday's and Saturday's and Mondays and Friday's he goes to the gym. It helps. On Sunday's he goes to his parents and brushes off his Mom when she enquires about Elena or reminds him how tired he looks as his Dad looks on in worry from his over-stuffed armchair by the fire.

He thinks about her, though. Everyday. After the initial brunt of the hurt wore off, he tried to contact her. They even met up for a coffee, but her smiles were nervous and her tone was careful, like she was treading on ice and it made his teeth grind because this wasn't the relationship he had, this wasn't the girl he… _fell in love with._

Because he did fall in love.

And love greeted him with a good old punch in the stomach.

He hasn't seen her in months and it sucks but it's life. Neither his pride or his self-esteem can suffer the blows they do when he's around her now because it's as if she's sending off a 'I DON'T LIKE YOU LIKE THAT. I'M SO SORRY, BUT WE'RE JUST FRIENDS' vibe and it's a pain in the ass. But he keeps busy. And that helps. It was his own fault really, when he looks back on it. Because a teenage crush like that isn't meant to last.

He looks at himself in the mirror one last time. His hair is as floppy as ever and despite all his best efforts to comb it, it just keeps floppin' back so he thinks, what the hell. He's wearing a simple white shirt and black slacks and he shined his shoes last night and has his best cologne on. Because he knows he's going to see her tonight.

And he does.

He sees her before she sees him and she's all light and radiance and good _God _she is beautiful. She's mid laugh, one of her big-belly laughs and he can't help but smile at her because she looks like a little kid when she laughs like that. She doesn't see him though, and he's glad because he knows that he has to find Caroline to wish her a happy birthday and if he's being honest, he's not quite ready to meet her again just yet.

The night is great and after a few Daniels' he's chilled and relaxed and he's having a really great time. He missed hanging with everyone as a group. But this is Caroline's party, so of course literally every person she has ever met even once in her life is here, because that's just Caroline, and he hasn't found her yet. He's trying not to cast his eyes around the room all that often because he knows that one his eyes lock on her again he is done for. But it doesn't even come to that, because as the party is winding down he can't see her. Anywhere. And for one, totally over-whelming and heart clenching moment he thinks she's left, that he's missed his chance and that he won't get to talk to her tonight, after all. And it saddens him more than it relieves him.

Damon winks over at him and nods toward the door and Stefan knows that they're heading home now and he's so unrealistically disappointed that he's almost ashamed of himself. So he gets his coat and goes to join Bonnie and his brother until he sees them cosy-ing up together in a booth and figures he'll just wait outside.

It's cold and his breath is fogging up before him as he steps out into the city night, so he rubs his hands and blows on them to warm them up. And then a thrill ripples through him.

"Stefan."

It's not a question, it's a statement. Because she still does that, apparently.

He turns around and sees her, his brown-eyed beauty looking as stunning as ever, in the corner beside the cold, hard wall with the ends of a cigarette in her hand. Apparently he looks surprised because she raises it infront of him to confirm it and takes one last drag from it.

"I didn't know you smoked."

She looks up at him a little ashamedly and he can see her eyes are glazed over and he suspects alcohol has been very heavily involved in tonight.

"I don't. Well at least, not regularly. Just socially," She reassures him, and digs her high-heeled clad toe into the ground.

He raises his eyebrow and holds himself as he looks around.

"But there's nobody here."

She smiles at him a little shyly and all the feelings he has tried to close himself off to come rushing back.

"But you are."

And just like that, it's back to the beginning again.

**_A/N: Hi guys, so this is my first Vampire Diaries fic, even though I'm obsessed. Elena and Stefan are perfect! I know the characters are pretty different but I've had this on my mind for a while now and figured I'd give it a go. Unfortunately I do not own the Vampire Diaries and all mistakes here (bound to be many) are all mine. Would love to hear your feedback and I just really hope you enjoyed it._**~~~~

ight now.

nd will be for rest of week. Thinking of heading back to Atlanta next week for J'


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